


get a grip (and keep it)

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Asphyxiation, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Hey, Ushiwaka,” Hinata peeks from over the back of the couch and Ushijima’s shoulder, peering at the book the other is reading, “do you ever think about like, stuff?”“That’s a dumb question,” Ushijima doesn’t even look up.





	get a grip (and keep it)

“Hey, Ushiwaka,” Hinata peeks from over the back of the couch and Ushijima’s shoulder, peering at the book the other is reading, “do you ever think about like, stuff?”

“That’s a dumb question,” Ushijima doesn’t even look up and therefore misses Hinata puffing out red cheeks.

“You didn’t even let me finish! Like, bedroom stuff. I mean I know you do, but like--”

“Shouyou.” Ushijima slides his bookmark into place. “Are you going to suggest something?”

“Okay, hear me out. And you can’t make fun of me.”

“It’s a promise.” Ushijima answers in earnest and twists in his seat, folding his arms over the back of the couch and facing Hinata who tugs at his shirt sleeves, rolling them up then down then up again.

“Okay. Well. You remember us talking the other day? About stuff, like I said.”

"Of course."

"And how I said I really like when you're more... handsy."

“Yes. You said handsy, and then you proceeded to demand that I fit four fingers in your--”

“Irrelevant!” Hinata interrupts, face ablaze. “Anyway, I wasn’t totally honest with you.”

Ushijima’s eyebrows knit in the middle. “Shouyou.”

“I mean, not in a bad way! I really, really like when you use your hands a lot on me, seriously, but I left out… something. That I want you to do.” Ushijima doesn’t press which Hinata is thankful for; instead the wrinkles on his forehead relax and he lifts an eyebrow.

“Okay.” Hinata takes a deep breath. “I want you to, uh, well, I guess, choke me.” A pause. “A lot.”

“Choke you a lot, or you want it a lot?”

“Is that all you have to say?!” Hinata bristles but the anxiety melts away in a flood of relief that Ushijima doesn’t smirk or laugh (even though he’s never done it before during any time that Hinata has requested anything in the bedroom but hey, you never know, right?) and instead just looks pensive if not flushed in the face. “Are you… thinking about it?

“A bit.” He turns his gaze back to Hinata. “But I have no idea where I would start as of now.”

“That’s okay! That’s, it’s okay, we don’t have to do it right now or anything, so no rush. Just-- think about it! If you want, or can, or--”

“Should you really be worrying about me when you can’t even control your mouth?”

“Ugh, you’re so--!” Hinata throws his hands up, exasperated but relieved even if his boyfriend is a bit thick in the skull. “--understanding.” Something like a smile tugs at the corner of Ushijima’s lips. “So, uh, dinner?”

“Don’t you want to discuss this a little more?”

“Oh! Oh, well, I didn’t want to do it like right now, ‘cuz I don’t wanna rush into things, also I'm just kinda not in the mood,” Hinata scratches the side of his head. “Can we maybe look at it together? Or if that’s too embarrassing or something I can just let you do it yourself and--”

“Shouyou.” Ushijima rises to his full height and moves to stand by Hinata, “You’re repeating yourself.” One large hand comes to rest on Hinata’s shoulder and squeezes. “We won’t do this until we’re both completely ready.” Pouting, Hinata crosses his arms but doesn’t shy away from the touch. “I should be the one reassuring you, ‘cuz this was my idea… Ushibaka.”

“Don’t call me that. I do it out of worry.”

“I was _kidding_ ,” Hinata turns the small bit needed to face Ushijima and reaches up, ruffling the thick dark hair. “Thick hair for a thick skull,” he murmurs. “Lets meet when we’re _both_ ready. Over dinner though, ‘cuz I’m hungry.” Ushijima waits for Hinata to untangle his fingers from his hair to straighten and roll his shoulders.

“Did you plug in the rice cooker?”

Hinata only gets one step away. “Oh.”

*

For a week following this conversation Ushijima trawls through multiple forums and searches about _safer breath play for you and your lover! Follow these five steps for optimum pleasure and comfort! Safety and Warning Signs to Follow,_ gets distracted by ads for lube and suggested eBay finds on Facebook (until Hinata smacks his hands away and gives him another lecture on pop-ups), but takes enough notes until he gets the gist. Hinata watches porn--he already knows more than enough.

They discuss it over dinner--simple rice and soup, the university delight--until Ushijima's ears wind up so red they steam more than the rice.

“Do we have a safe word?” a few grains of rice fall from Hinata’s lips; Ushijima gives him a Look.

“‘Volleyball’.”

“Maybe, if you didn’t actually bring up volleyball every now and again,” Hinata chomps down on a bite.

“‘Spike’.”

“No more volleyball terms.”

“‘Offsides’.”

“Not funny!” but it is, and Hinata can’t help a snort.

“I’ve read that a stoplight system is basic yet efficient.”

“Oh,” Hinata chirps, “that’ll work. Next time we can try a word.” At the mention of a next time there’s a clink of chopsticks, Ushijima having dropped them in his bowl and scratching his chin like he’s _not_ avoiding eye contact with Hinata. Pretending not to notice, Hinata gives him a cheeky grin, one cheek round from a mouthful of rice.

*

“This is alright, right?” Ushijima asks from above Hinata who's now splayed out between strong sturdy thighs and a warm hand wrapping around his neck. Hinata nods as best as he can in Ushijima’s grasp and even grins up at the other, wiggling fingers and toes in expectation.

“Yep!”

“What are the colors?”

“Red-yellow-green. Stop, ease up, still good. In that order.”

“And the signal?”

Hinata holds up his left hand, an old stopwatch from middle school with the lanyard missing clutched in it and drops it, giving a decent thunk-clatter upon landing. Ushijima rolls his eyes but picks up the device and puts it back in Hinata’s hand.

“Good.” He pats the other’s cheek with his free hand. “I’m going to start now.”

“‘kay--” the words are barely out before Ushijima clenches around Hinata’s neck, knuckles sharpening and tendons flexing as they pronounce themselves under the skin. Hinata can’t even get a gasp in but his grin doesn’t falter, even going so far as to tilt his head back.

The skin of the column of Hinata’s neck is so smooth under Ushijima’s sturdy palm that he can’t help but up the pressure, just to get more of a feel. Hinata’s eyebrows furrow but the grin stays in place, almost taunting Ushijima-- _give me more_.

Ushijima plants his free palm flat on the floor to balance himself, still hunkered over Hinata like a broad shadow, blocking out the ceiling light from above; his eyes still glint with mischief and a slight shimmer of glaze from the lack of air.

_Thud._

Ushijima pulls his hand back in a millisecond, shaking out the wrist as Hinata gasps and shudders, taking in three deep breaths before the stopwatch is back in his hand again and Ushijima’s own hand is around his throat just as fast as it had left.

“Agh--” the wet sound that falls from Hinata’s throat has Ushijima’s blood simmering, not quite boiling yet but the burn runs up his arm from the heat of Hinata’s neck and pools low in his stomach, still and waiting. Just for fun he flexes his fingers tighter and Hinata chokes out a noise that could have been a whimper had his throat been free.

_Thunk._

Once more Ushijima yanks his hand back and Hinata goes limp against the floor, pulling in one shuddering breath after the other as much as he can before Ushijima has the watch pressing into his hand again and his airway is constricted. This time Ushijima shifts his stance and straightens enough to use both hands, clapping his free one over Hinata’s nose and mouth.

Oh, _oh_ , that must have been the right choice; the whites of Hinata’s eyes shine and both of them are locked onto Ushijima like a target, pupils gold-rimmed black as they dilate. Their noses bump when Ushijima leans in, so close he can feel Hinata's breath fanning over his lips. Hinata wants to writhe but Ushijima squeezes tighter, tight enough to make Hinata settle, but only by a margin. “Why are you so eager to get away when you like it so much?” he asks and nudges the shape of Hinata’s erection with his thigh.

And what a reaction he receives. It’s like a bolt of lightning hits Hinata; a full body shiver jolts through him and he drops the watch, _thunk_!, and Ushijima is off again.

“Fuck,” Hinata curses, coughs, “oh God--"

“You’re alright?”

“Yes, more than alright, it’s-- good,” he pants and the watch is back and so are Ushijima’s hands, airtight and impossible for any breath to breach.

It’s a couple more rounds of this before Ushijima’s palms are sweaty from both himself and the slick sheen of Hinata’s skin; even his neck is damp, orange strands curling at the nape and he’s toeing the edge of incoherent. Wiping his hands off on his shorts, Ushijima takes a moment to place a palm over Hinata’s forehead, swiping his thumb in a comforting gesture over the space between his eyebrows. “Shouyou,” he calls for his attention, “what color?”

“G-green,” he pants once and that’s all he gets out before Ushijima is back, still enthused and holding onto Hinata so tight there will be imprints on his neck for the next couple days, light but still evident.

Too bad he doesn’t own many high-necked shirts.

There’s power in Ushijima’s grasp, bleeding into his muscles with every beat of his feverish heart, heavy and overpowering in the large shadow he casts, as large as the one on the court, the same muscles that execute textbook serves with unfathomable strength flexing under his skin as his grip tightens and tightens, so close to holding up Hinata by the neck--

 _Thud_.

The noise Hinata makes edges on inhuman but he said he was okay, doesn’t protest otherwise, so Ushijima tucks the watch back into his sweaty palm and continues where he paused. Now Hinata can’t help himself but to squirm underneath Ushijima, legs kicking out and free hand scrabbling against the floor. Ushijima can’t see from this angle but Hinata’s got to be rock hard in his shorts if the way he’s squirming with zero intent to escape is any sort of sign. Another quick press of his thigh against Hinata's groin more than confirms his assumption.

Ushijima’s so taken by the redness of Hinata’s face and slick shine of spit on his lips that he almost misses when Hinata drops the watch again. In one swift move he pulls his hands back and gives him extra breathing time in apology, resting his forearms on his thighs as he crouches over the middle blocker. Hinata’s head lolls and his gaze is watery, unclear as he blinks and tries to focus. Ushijima threads his fingers through the other’s hair, spreading them against his crown and turning his head back to face Ushijima. Still no word of warning passes across the others’ lips even after a couple of breaths so, the watch back in his small sweaty palm, Ushijima clamps his hands over Hinata’s throat and face once more.

This time he shakes up things a bit. After giving Hinata a good breathless few seconds he jerks his hands back, shakes them out, and is back on him before he can even pass in a full inhale. He repeats the pattern in a set of three, a good, easy number, fixated on the gasp, shudder, and tense of Hinata’s slender form, the fluttering pulse, the wet feel of his lips against his palm when he clamps it over Hinata’s mouth again, airtight.

He tightens his grip in intervals, steady and firm until the watch drops. When he pulls off Hinata cries out, a shadow of his voice that devolves into a wet sob as he chokes down as much air as possible. Actual tears bead their way down the side of Hinata’s face and Ushijima is back in an instant, smoothing wet hair and wiping the salty dampness away from Hinata’s cheeks with his thumbs.

“Shouyou,” Hinata sniffles and anchors himself to Ushijima’s voice through the fog in his brain, “color.”

The sob is smaller this time.

“Do we need to stop?”

“No, no, please, green, please” Hinata’s not quite to the point of begging yet, just a singular weak plea bleeding forth as he tries to lift his hands to touch Ushijima, desperate for contact again, “Okay, m-maybe yellow, only a little, j-just gimme a-- a minute.” Hinata draws in breaths heavy enough to make him tremble on the exhale, blinking away tears that Ushijima smudges away with his palm.

“Okay, okay, the--” Hinata blinks and pats the floor with slack fingers, “the thing, gimme the thing.” On demand, Ushijima drops a kiss against Hinata's hairline and slides the watch back into his grasp, flexing his own fingers to squeeze Hinata's shaky hand before he’s back in the scene, large hands locking around his neck and clamped over his face. He’s generous for the first few times, giving Hinata enough time to breathe and adjust before pulling him back under the breathless tide within his firm hold.

Ushijima is entranced, aroused by the middle blocker, his hair splayed against the floor in a mess of damp orange strands and face wet and shiny with tears and sweat. Thin eyebrows crease as his eyes start to roll back and he struggles for air, red-faced and futile. This time when Ushijima pulls back Hinata cries out in a way that has him wanting to grab at himself through his own shorts.

But first thing’s first.

“Wakatoshi, _Wakatoshi_ ,” Hinata pants a mantra of his name, a trembling puddle of lust in his shadow, “Please, please--”

Ushijima doesn’t need to be told twice, or even once to continue on; even as he braces his grip he leans in closer, his own breath hot as it washes over the back of his knuckles.

“You really like this, don’t you?”

 _Thunk_.

“Yes! Yes, Wakatoshi,” Hinata sobs, “It’s good, I’m getting close, Toshi, I--”

“Not yet.” the finality in his tone has Hinata jolting before Ushijima touches him. "I know you aren't satisfied with just this." The tension is ramping up now; there’s a damp spot on the front of Hinata’s shorts and dots of tears on the floor by his head and the air is humid and thick with the smell of sweat and Shouyou. Even Ushijima begins to feel a bit dizzy with the heat of it all.

Hinata is out of it. Only his eyes are visible as Ushijima slaps a palm over his nose and mouth and they roll within their sockets, eyelashes fluttering as the fog of hypoxia settles in his mind. Tears brimming on the edges of his eyelids set the amber irises alight and Ushijima can sense him reaching his peak.

Closer and closer it comes. The next time Hinata drops the device, the moment Ushijima draws back he tries to speak with air that isn’t there, wobbly arms grasping for purchase against the floor, Ushijima’s legs, his jacket, “T-t-toshi, I, I want to-- I want to--”

Ushijima grabs him by the chin. “Shouyou.” His voice is quiet but has no less heat behind it, “use your words--what color.”

“Green, green, please, anything--” Words take far too much effort.

“Can you go one more time?” Hinata arches into the fingertips Ushijima brushes against his hairline while the other creeps downward and squeezes Hinata's cock over his shorts, and he _whines_ , nodding without strength yet with enough assurance that it leaves little doubt between them.

“Yes, I can-- I can do it, you--” No warning once more and Ushijima doesn’t hold back in the slightest. Nothing is slipping past his fingers, locked tight against bruising skin like a vice; it may be their first time doing this but Ushijima, powerhouse perfectionist that he is, wants to make it good, wants to make Shouyou remember this for the next week when he stretches and feels a twinge in his neck, wants to watch Hinata's lip swell from being pressed so hard against his own teeth that it leaves imprints and he wants to kiss him after that. His gaze must be on fire as Hinata’s eyes don’t leave Ushijima’s, free hand falling from Ushijima’s forearm. The moment Hinata’s eyelids start to flutter Ushijima leans forward, balancing with both his knees bracketing either side of the middle blocker’s hips, and kisses the back of his hand covering Hinata’s mouth.

 _Thud-clatter_.

Like a starting shot Ushijima pulls his hands away 1but keeps the same distance, smoothing his palms down Hinata’s quaking shoulders, his chest rising and falling in uneven inhales as he calls Ushijima’s name, thin and shaky as he clutches at whatever part of Ushijima he can.

“Waka-- toshi--”

“You did well,” Ushijima assures, kisses Hinata as he dips his fingers under Hinata’s waistband, curling around the elastic and tugging it down under Hinata’s ass, just enough to expose his dick to the air, shiny at the head, and Hinata’s shivers follow the heated trail of Ushijima’s touch.

Hinata almost cries in earnest when Ushijima takes his cock in hand finally, _finally_ , jerking his hips into the circle of fingers that tighten on every upstroke; a little delayed gratification goes a long way, he's learned from his time with Ushijima. Sensitive, dazed, Hinata chokes out unfiltered praise between gasps and whimpers of Ushijima’s name.

It’s too dry to properly jerk off Hinata, the skin on skin rub already sticky and uncomfortable so Ushijima takes less than a moment to spit into his palm before taking Hinata back into his hold. It’s good, very good, so good Hinata throws his head back with a decent clunk against the floor so hard that Ushijima winces but Hinata’s groans just escalate, feet skidding against the floor as he tries to find purchase, melting into Ushijima’s touch.

“Gonna cum,” Hinata gasps, eyes wide and unfocused toward the ceiling, Ushijima, the ceiling, “s’too much, I’m gonna cum--”

Ushijima’s voice drags against his throat like sandpaper, rough and heated against Hinata’s ear, “Go ahead,” and sinks his teeth into Hinata’s earlobe.

That, the practiced grip of Ushijima’s hand around his dick, the kiss he lays against the curve of his jaw and the soft bite he takes of the thumbprint bruise on the side of Hinata’s neck, has the middle blocker seizing as his orgasm rips through him like scissors through paper, pulling him into a taut arch as he spurts over Ushijima’s still stroking hand and his stomach and the sensations are _maddening_ and burning all at once like standing too close to a fire; he can't even tell if he's making noise or not. Ushijima’s gaze bores into him as he goes boneless and twitching in his hand, lips damp to the point of drooling and head lolling as he comes down, murmuring Ushijima’s name in slowing breaths; he only registers that he's breathing after a good half minute.

Ushijima pauses while Hinata draws in a final reedy gasp and spasms in the last throes of his orgasm before pulling him up by the arms into a sitting position, tugging off Hinata's shirt and making quick work of the mess on his stomach before shucking off his own jacket and draping it around the smaller man. It covers him like a blanket or a shawl, falling over his head and shoulders, trembling with every shiver that wracks Hinata’s body. Ushijima has to hold him steady by the arms with both hands. _What a mess._

He speaks after a minute. “You’re shaking.” a nod is all he gets in response. “Can you speak?” this time a head shake. A couple of residual tears leak and roll down the sides of his face, dripping onto his collar. Ushijima frowns, sparing a hand to brush damp orange hair away from sweaty cheeks. “Does it hurt at all?” another head shake. Hinata’s mind and body are drained, overstimulated to the point of mush, at least for a while (which to be fair is exactly what they both wanted) so Ushijima slides Hinata’s arms over his shoulders and picks him up, easy as pie, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other tucked under his rear; he’s as pliant as putty or a doll, loose and fucked out in Ushijima’s arms.

Hinata slides out of his grasp and against the pillows where he curls in on himself. He reaches for Ushijima who crouches down so as not to loom over the other, small hands setting alight on his shoulders. “I’ll go to the bathroom and be right back.” He gives Hinata’s hair a couple of strokes. It’s only a few paces from the bedroom, but Ushijima figures it’ll help anyway.

Hinata gives him an exhausted but resolute nod and lets his hands fall away, watching Ushijima’s retreating back. From this angle he can see Ushijima fiddling around in the bathroom, the door wide open and light on for Hinata to watch. He returns with a towel and a cup of water from the sink, setting both on the nightstand before sliding onto the bed by the other.

“Here,” he maneuvers the other into a sitting position and works his way behind Hinata until he’s in his lap, leaning back against the broad torso behind him and rolling his head against a large bicep. “Comfortable?” He gets a nod in answer.

Ushijima is quick and methodical in cleaning Hinata up, wiping down any stains or sweaty spots until he's clean and dry and clothed in clean shorts and a shirt and Ushijima’s jacket.

Ushijima winds his fingers into Hinata’s hair and rakes through the locks once before scratching behind an ear. “Did you like it?”

A nod and hum.

“We could do it again in the future.”

Two nods and a sigh.

“Water should help your throat.” Without pausing in his ministration he reaches over and takes the cup, sipping once before passing it to Hinata; the tension leaks out of Hinata as he sags in his lap, fluffy hair sweaty at the scalp and sticking against Ushijima's chest.

“Thanks,” Hinata croaks. “It was-- awesome.”

“Hm,” Ushijima wraps a lock of fiery hair around one finger, lost in his thoughts. “Awesome.”

“Super awesome,” he leans into the blunt fingers tangling themselves in the mass of fluff, “like, no words awesome.”

“You are saying many words.” But he can’t help but let his ego inflate; Hinata rolls his eyes in response.

“A big dick and a big head,” Hinata takes an indignant sip, “if I hadn’t just cum so hard that I became half-paralyzed I’d tell you off.”

Despite the fact that Ushijima had just gotten Hinata off not fifteen minutes earlier, a streak of red covers his cheeks at the wayward compliment. Hinata pretends that he doesn't know. "You were way too good at this for it to be your first time doing it."

"I studied," he sounds puzzled.

"Too good," Hinata murmurs again and rolls the twinges out of his neck, "I don't even wanna know what your search history looks like."

"You really don't."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry once more Henry Rollins. Hope I did well enough to bring some honor to you.  
> As always, self beta'd. Thanks for reading.


End file.
